


Supervision

by tastewithouttalent



Series: Optimism [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:42:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1295275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"An enclosed space, with or without someone else there, sounds like heaven, and when Mondo tips his chin down and grins up past his hair at the prefect Ishimaru can’t even muster up the will to want to refuse, much less do so." Daiya does a spectacularly bad job of chaperoning Ishimaru and Mondo after school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supervision

“Are you sure this is acceptable?”

It’s at least the fifth time Ishimaru has asked. It’s not a long walk from the school campus to the apartment Mondo shares with his brother, but the prefect is right up on the verge of full-blown panic, and the comfort he gains from the other’s reassurance only lasts for a minute or two before he needs more.

Mondo looks at him sideways and heaves a resigned sigh. “Like I’ve  _been_  saying. It’s not a problem with me and Daiya doesn’t care. He’s been saying he wants to see more of you, even. And your parents know he’s gonna be there and that makes it all okay, right?”

“Mm.” It’s not all okay, not  _quite_ , and Ishimaru knows exactly what the issue is. He is certain that when he says, ‘his brother will be there’ his parents hear ‘chaperone,’ and while he is personally fond of Daiya, Mondo’s older brother is spectacularly unfit for anything like chaperoning. But. He never specified himself, and his parents didn’t ask, and Mondo’s hands have been venturing farther and farther in the afterschool interludes until it’s nearly impossible for Ishimaru to convince himself that they should stop. An enclosed space, with or without someone else there, sounds like heaven, and when Mondo tips his chin down and grins up past his hair at the prefect Ishimaru can’t even muster up the will to  _want_  to refuse, much less do so.

“Ishi.” Mondo has veered in closer as they’ve been walking without Ishimaru noticing. Now he carefully settles an arm around the smaller boy’s shoulders; it weighs Ishimaru down oddly, but the weight is comforting, and it pulls him in close so he can feel Mondo’s body radiating heat and their hips bump together on every off-step. “Calm down. It’s fine, yeah?” The other boy’s hand comes up to ruffle through his hair and Ishimaru smiles without meaning to. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to, I promise.”

The promise is perfectly sincere; Ishimaru can hear the solidity of the truth under the other boy’s tone. He knows, anyway, even without hearing it. Mondo never breaks his promises.

“I know we won’t.” Ishimaru says aloud. He keeps his eyes fixed ahead and his back straight, even though he wants to curl his shoulders forward and tip his head down to hide the flush that creeps up his cheeks. “I  _do_  want to do something.”

He doesn’t specify. He’s not sure he  _could_  specify if pressed. It’s not that he has some grand complex fantasy worked out in his head; even when he’s alone at home, his thoughts rarely get anywhere beyond the generic of a larger hand stroking over his length in place of his own, the pant of Mondo’s breath against his neck and a knee pressed sharp against his leg. There’s some confusion of friction and heat and damp in his memories and fantasies tangled together and that’s usually enough to bring him over the edge when he’s on his own. Sometimes he thinks it’ll be enough just with Mondo touching him after school, with the other boy’s fingers sliding down the too-tight front of his pants and the other boy’s erection pressed in against Ishimaru’s half-covered stomach, but it hasn’t yet, which seems like a good thing afterwards but just frustrating during. It doesn’t matter, at this point, what they do exactly, but Ishimaru is perfectly clear that he  _wants_  it, whatever  _it_  is.

Mondo takes a sharp breath at his declaration, and his head tips in so their hair catches together and his breath is warm on Ishimaru’s cheek. The prefect thinks Mondo might be able to kiss him, but the contact doesn’t quite materialize; there’s just an audible swallow, and Mondo muttering, “Me too,” like he’s confessing a secret. When Ishimaru looks at him the other boy is blushing harder than he is himself, and when Mondo coughs and adjusts his pants the prefect looks away and smiles down the road in front of them.

Daiya has the front door open before they arrive, letting the cool outside air into the house even though it has to be drafty. “Hey kids!” The call comes from the kitchen as they come in the front door. The older man pokes his head around the corner and offers them both a grin. “How’s school?”

“Classes went well,” Ishimaru declares. “Mondo did not attend his, however.”

“Ah well.” Daiya disappears from view. There’s no indication in his tone that he is either concerned or surprised by this revelation. “We all know he’s only got one reason to be around the campus anyway.”

“ _Daiya_!” Mondo pronounces his brother’s name as a strangled shriek, and when Ishimaru looks at him the larger boy is blushing furiously. He gets the strong sense that he’s missing some established joke; this sense is only compounded when Daiya shouts, “Oh, and I picked up those things you wanted, bro. They’re in your room in your desk drawer.”

“We’re leaving!” Mondo shouts back. “Bye, don’t interrupt us!” He’s storming down the hall to his room, dragging Ishimaru behind him, even before Daiya calls back, “I’ll be very busy and distracted for at least two hours!”

Ishimaru doesn’t think to protest until Mondo has shut his bedroom door with more force than is strictly needed, and even then the best he can manage is, “Shouldn’t we leave the door open?”

Mondo is still red with embarrassment and glaring like his irritation can make it through the door and to the kitchen, but when he looks at Ishimaru his flush deepens and the irritation fades off.

“Do you  _want_  Daiya to see me jerk you off?”

“Ah,” Ishimaru says as all the coherency in his brain scatters under that mental image. “Ah. No. Uh. Are -- you going to?”

“I really  _want_  to,” Mondo says. He’s not moved from the door, though he’s dropped his hold on Ishimaru’s hand, and they’re in Mondo’s bedroom, and the prefect has never been here before but he can’t manage to interest himself in anything other than his boyfriend’s face. Mondo is looking at Ishimaru’s hand, specifically the edge of his sleeve, rather than his face, and really this would all look like rejection if it weren’t for the shake of desperate sincerity under his words.

“Ah,” Ishimaru stutters again. “Good. That’s good. I.”

Mondo’s chin comes up, just a little, and his eyes catch on Ishimaru’s. They’re shadowed under his lashes and oddly dark like they sometimes get when the two of them are under the school bleachers, and the prefect says, “I want you to too,” and steps across the space to crush his mouth against Mondo’s.

His hands come up to hold the other boy’s head steady, and his mouth is open before he means for it to be and he’s not sure what he’s doing, exactly, just that there is the scrape of teeth and a push of tongues and everything is  _sensation_ , heat and pressure and the edge of pain when his lip catches wrong. Mondo’s hair is in his face and tangling in his eyelashes until Ishimaru doesn’t dare open his eyes, but he doesn’t really need to see anyway. He’s barely able to keep track of his balance at the moment and he has  _no_  idea where his hands are; when his mouth hums with sound he realizes he’s groaning, and when Mondo’s fingers hit skin he jumps in surprise -- when did his shirt come loose? -- but doesn’t pull away.

His blood is flaring hot but his lungs are starting to ache too, and finally he has to pull back to gulp air until his head stops spinning.

“Fuck, Ishi,” Mondo says. He’s leaning in even as Ishimaru pulls away, so close the prefect can’t make out his features clearly, just the sparkle of purple eyes and a smudge of thick lashes over his cheek. “Breathe through your nose, you don’t need to suffocate while kissing me.”

His voice is purrs low over the words, and when his lips curl over the word ‘kissing’ Ishimaru whines and dips back in under Mondo’s hair to cover the other boy’s mouth with his again before he has quite caught his breath. He does try breathing through his nose, and it helps when he remembers to inhale, but he still has to  _remember_  and it’s hard to think about  _anything_  when Mondo’s tongue is trailing over the roof of his mouth. There are hands coming up Ishimaru’s back, fingers scraping along the dip of his spine and over his ribcage, and Mondo wears  _way_  too many clothes for all that they’re loose. Ishimaru can’t find skin, at least not consistently -- there’s the brush of an elbow or the hint of collarbone under his hands but then Mondo moves and they’re gone, leaving just the tantalizing promise of resistance against Ishimaru’s body. The prefect finally settles for fisting his hands in the heavy weight of the other boy’s jacket and pulling himself in close by that hold until they’re both leaned back against the door.

Mondo tips backward until his shoulders hit the door, and for a moment Ishimaru’s entire body is pressed up against the other boy’s so he can feel the outline of chest and hip and leg through the other’s clothes. Then Mondo laughs and pulls away, and Ishimaru reflexively tips his head back in response before he thinks it through.

“What?” he blurts as soon as their mouths are apart. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Mondo says quickly, and the fingers against Ishimaru’s back stroke down in comfort. “D’you want to move?” He nods over the prefect’s shoulder and Ishimaru actually has to turn and look before he understands what Mondo is getting at.

“Oh. Uh.”

“It’ll be more comfortable,” Mondo points out. He’s not backing Ishimaru up; he’s not even leaning up from the door, just lounging against it, but the lean of his back makes Ishimaru’s breath stutter and his mind scramble for something he can’t even quite imagine.

“Yeah,” he says, quick, before panic can override the heat under his skin, and  _then_  Mondo comes up off the door and into his personal space so Ishimaru takes a stumbling step backward just to catch his balance.

“Good,” he purrs, and then he’s leaning in close to press his mouth to the skin just over Ishimaru’s collar, and the prefect sucks in a breath of shocked pleasure and they’re both going back, half-falling and half-walking until Ishimaru’s leg catches up hard on the edge of the mattress and his weight falls back onto the bed. There’s a breath of instinctive panic as he falls but the bed is soft enough that the impact doesn’t hurt, and as he’s coming up on his elbows Mondo is shrugging his arms out of the sleeves of his coat. His knee comes down on one side of Ishimaru’s body and he’s leaning in and there’s suddenly  _so_  much skin, just arms and shoulders and a thin white shirt, and the prefect’s hands are against the other’s back and clinging to the shirt so he can pull Mondo down into another kiss before he thinks.

Mondo laughs and tips his head to better fit their mouths together, and Ishimaru tries to remember to breathe as his thoughts fracture apart into heat and moisture and want. This time when Mondo pulls back his hands are freeing the last of the buttons on Ishimaru’s jacket, and when he pushes against the prefect’s shoulder the smaller boy sits up so together they can get his jacket off. Ishimaru’s fingers are faster on the buttons of his shirt than Mondo’s for all that they’re trembling with adrenaline, and Mondo’s pushing the cloth off his shoulders even before he is quite done unfastening the front. Mondo’s shirt is still on but it’s thin and rides up easily when Ishimaru pushes at the hem, and then Mondo tips them back to the bed and the press of bare skin against Ishimaru’s chest and stomach makes the prefect’s breath rush away in startled delight.

“ _God_ ,” Mondo sighs against Ishimaru’s mouth. His fingers come up to trace gently up along the other boy’s bare skin and Ishimaru hisses and arches up against the contact, shoves hard against the other boy’s shirt until Mondo laughs and pulls away long enough for Ishimaru to tug the fabric off his head. Then there’s just skin, shifting muscle and radiating heat  _right there_ , under Ishimaru’s hands, and it’s more than he imagined but it’s easy too, just skin like his own but intriguingly different, more muscle and unfamiliar scars under his fingers. When his hands come sideways Mondo hisses and Ishimaru can feel him tense in reaction, and the prefect laughs in delighted surprise without thinking of it. Mondo smiles against Ishimaru’s skin and his weight shifts over the other boy, giving the prefect a breath of warning before his fingers press gently into the front of the other’s white pants.

It’s not that Ishimaru had forgotten the final destination, exactly, but he  _did_  get distracted with the pleasure of the journey, and when Mondo’s hand comes down right where he wants it he groans  _much_  louder than he intended as he rocks up into the contact. Embarrassed memory of Daiya in the other room pulls self-conscious chill over the fever in his blood and he drops a hand from Mondo’s skin to clap it over his mouth. The other boy is blushing hard, and his laugh is shaky with shyness, but he presses harder and leans down to kiss Ishimaru’s jawline, and the prefect bites back his responsive sound as much as he can but arches up hard into the touch.

“Um.” Mondo sounds nervous although Ishimaru can’t see his face from his angle. “Ishi, can I…?” His fingers come up to dip over the edge of Ishimaru’s pants to ask the question for him, and the other boy is nodding even though he’s starting to shake with half-panicked anticipation. When Mondo pulls away to look down at what he’s doing Ishimaru lets his hand come away from his mouth, and after a moment he comes up to sit upright and reaches for the laces of his boot. Usually he unlaces them all the way down but there’s no time for that right now, and the first few inches are enough for him to wiggle his foot free. That takes longer than he would like, though, and by the time he has one boot off Mondo’s got the white pants open and is sitting back and grinning at him.

“Your clothes are so complicated,” he observes as Ishimaru sets the first boot down and starts in on the second.

“I’m sorry,” Ishimaru starts, cheeks going darker, but Mondo leans in to breathe warm against his neck and fits his hand against the other boy’s stomach.

“It’s fine,” he purrs, and his fingers come down so Ishimaru’s hands stumble over the familiar laces of his boots and he struggles to recall what he’s doing. “Just lets me distract you.”

Ishimaru chokes on a laughing protest. In the end it takes him twice as long to unlace his second boot half as far as he did the first, and Mondo eventually growls into his skin and comes down to tug hard at the heel until it comes free. The other boy kicks his boots off in a matter of seconds as he’s reaching for the waist of Ishimaru’s pants, and after a moment of tugging the prefect catches on to what the other boy wants and lifts his weight off the bed enough that Mondo can slide his pants free. Then his boots and shirt and pants are gone and he’s just in his boxers on Mondo’s  _bed_ , and they are  _not_  doing a good job of covering anything, really, and self-consciousness hits so hard Ishimaru can feel the heat of his blush all down his chest and shoulders as his eyes start to well up with irrepressible tears.

Mondo looks up at his face and pauses, his fingers brushing gentle against the other boy’s collarbone. “You okay?”

Ishimaru nods violently, not sure he can trust his voice to speak. His skin is flushing with heat and want and it feels like all the sensation in his body is centering under the other boy’s fingertips, and his eyes are starting to overflow across his cheeks but he manages a smile anyway.

Mondo smiles in echoing response. “This that thing again?” He waves his free hand as if the movement will explain for him. “Where you just cry about everything?”

Ishimaru nods again and brings a hand up to swipe at his cheeks. “Yes. I’m fine, really.”

“Okay.” Mondo leans in to kiss the other boy, a momentary brush of his mouth against Ishimaru’s that makes the prefect suck in a sharp breath and lean in to trail the larger boy as he pulls back. “Tell me if you’re not?”

“Okay,” Ishimaru agrees, and when Mondo pushes gently against his shoulder he goes back to lie across the bed. His heart is hammering in his chest and his breath is coming so fast he can’t discern any rhythm at all anymore, but Mondo is looking down at him and the other boy’s mouth is open like he’s forgotten how to speak, and his fingers are dragging down over Ishimaru’s chest and stomach and hip and  _there_ , pressure so light against the thin fabric stretched across the prefect’s erection that Ishimaru hisses and rocks up for more.

Mondo laughs surprised and breathy and pushes down harder, just pressure but Ishimaru can feel his fingers separate and curling against him and the prefect’s throat closes up around another too-loud reaction. The other boy glances up at his face; his smile touches down gentle in his eyes, and he lifts the elastic edge of Ishimaru’s boxers and pulls down, and when he touches his fingers directly to the other boy’s length Ishimaru doesn’t even remember to be self-conscious about being effectively naked for the first time in front of the other boy.

Mondo’s eyes are jumping back and forth from the movement of his hand over Ishimaru’s erection to the other boy’s face, like he can’t decide which is more intriguing, and Ishimaru’s vision keeps blurring with overheated tears but his body is shaking with flushing pleasure and the stunned delight in Mondo’s face is something he’s going to be thinking about for  _weeks_.

“Mondo,” he says just as the other boy licks his lips and says, “Ishi.” They both go quiet in deference to the other, and then Ishimaru blinks and swallows and says, “Yes, what is it?”

It sounds oddly formal -- usually Mondo would tease him for it but the other boy just looks at his face and swallows and says, “Can I...can I try…”

He stalls out, and the movement of his hand is slowing, so when Ishimaru says, “What do you want to try?” the words sound more desperate than he intends.

Mondo looks away from his eyes and blushes scarlet, and when he speaks his voice has taken on the rough edge Ishimaru is starting to recognize as defensive. “Uh. Daiya picked up some stuff for us, if you want to try it out.”

“What did he pick up?” Ishimaru’s mind is entirely blank of possibilities, though that might just be the incoming waves of sensation radiating out from Mondo’s still too-slow touch on him.

Mondo still doesn’t look at him, and his free hand comes up to ruffle nervously through the longer hair against the back of his neck. “Condoms,” he finally says, quick and anxious. “And lube. Uh. Just in case.” He is going darker as Ishimaru watches, his words coming faster and harder as he talks. “Not that we have to. Or anything. It’s just I…”

“Yes.” Ishimaru is surprised at how loud the word comes. “Yes. Have you ever…”

“No.” Mondo looks up at him and his eyes are wide and nervous; he’s still blushing red, but he manages a grin at the other. “I haven’t. Have you?”

Ishimaru shakes his head, but his mind is spiraling out into possibilities and he’s starting to breathe faster even as his eyes decide to overflow with another wave of tears. “I am glad you are well-prepared, Mondo.”

Mondo laughs, genuine even if it’s strained with nerves. “I knew you’d say that.” He lets go of Ishimaru’s cock and turns away to the desk in the corner of the room while the prefect sits up and, after a moment of hesitation, slides his boxers down off his hips and to the floor with the rest of his clothes. He’s coming down off the edge of desperate  _want_  to frightened nerves, now, but his mind is wondering about the possibilities, the actual application of the things he’s read about and half-considered, and even by the time Mondo has come back with a box and a bottle Ishimaru is still so hard that he is flushed with the embarrassment of his evident interest.

“So.” Mondo comes back to sit next to him, but his hands are shaking visibly even with their burden, and his voice is starting to shake too. “One of us has to…” He swallows hard, blushing until he has to look away from Ishimaru’s face. “Uh. Bottom. I guess, is what the term is.”

“I will,” Ishimaru says quickly. He suspects his information is from a different source than Mondo’s, but he’s spent some time considering it, in the vague unformed fantasies of his mind. “Please. Do you know what we need to do beforehand?”

“Yeah,” Mondo mutters, dipping his head so his face is covered by his hair. “I think so.”

“Okay.” Ishimaru takes a breath and leans back onto the mattress. He kind of want to watches Mondo but if he’s looking at the other boy he remembers that Mondo is looking at  _him_  too, so it’s easier to stare at the ceiling. “Let’s try it.” He hesitates, then takes a steadying breath and shifts his legs apart and his hips slightly up.

Mondo takes an audible breath, but he doesn’t say anything so the sound of him getting the bottle of lube open is irrationally loud. Ishimaru is breathing hard and he can feel his heart pounding fast with adrenaline, the anticipation so tense that it’s a relief more than anything else when Mondo’s fingers brush against the inside of his legs. They’re cold and slippery, leave a path of chill up along Ishimaru’s overheated skin, and then a fingertip touches against his entrance and suddenly the other boy can’t breathe at all.

At least Mondo doesn’t hesitate. Ishimaru is pretty certain that he’d expire from panic if the other boy waited at all, but he’s barely had time to recognize  _where_  Mondo’s hand is when there’s a finger sliding inside him and he’s too busy processing the sensation to be panicked. It’s weird, mostly, though it’s a little hard to relax enough to breathe, and his whole body goes tense in shock.

Mondo goes utterly still and blurts, “Are you okay?” with more panic in his voice than Ishimaru is feeling right now.

“Yes,” the prefect says quickly. “It is strange but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay.” Mondo sounds relieved, but he doesn’t keep moving until Ishimaru says, “You can keep going.”

“Oh!” Mondo sounds as surprised as if he has entirely forgotten what they are doing. His finger pushes in farther and Ishimaru has to suck in a shocked breath and consciously relax because he’s pretty sure that was something you’re supposed to do. Mondo takes another startled breath, and he says, “Fuck, Ishi, you’re burning hot inside,” and the preposition plugs into some rarely-used part of the prefect’s brain and makes him moan in response. Mondo’s hand jerks and he pushes in farther, and it’s feeling okay, now; it’s still weird but now Ishimaru’s mind is considering that Mondo is actually  _inside_  his body and it’s flushing pleasant heat all over his skin. Then the other boy’s hand moves, a twist or a press or something, and there’s a responsive wave of sensation that makes Ishimaru gasp and rock up.

Mondo goes perfectly still, gasps, “Oh my god, are you okay?” which is the last thing Ishimaru wants, actually.

“I’m fine,” he says a bit more sharply than he intends. “That was  _good_ , do that again, you were --” and then Mondo does, curls his finger and it just brushes  _something_  and Ishimaru rocks up desperately into the touch as one hand comes down to wrap around his erection involuntarily.

“That feels really good,” he gasps. “Go down, just a little, you’re --” and then his words drown under a broken groan as Mondo obeys and pleasure pours white-hot over his senses.

“Ishi?” Mondo’s voice is asking, and Ishimaru is rocking up against that touch for more of that sensation. He thinks he says, “Good, that’s it,  _right_  there,” but he’s not sure; at any rate Mondo does, pushes in harder so Ishimaru whimpers and arches on the mattress under his touch. Then he’s pulling away, sliding his finger free, and Ishimaru tries to collect his thoughts to protest. He’s not found enough coherent words before Mondo’s pressing back into him, and for a moment there’s just pressure and almost-pain. Then he realizes that that’s a second finger alongside the first, and deliberately takes a breath and relaxes, and Mondo’s fingers come back inside him, faster this time than the first. Ishimaru can feel the stretch but it’s not as strange, and after a moment of fumbling Mondo finds that same spot again and presses two fingers against it. Ishimaru is more ready, this time, which is to say he has his free hand up over his mouth to catch the worst of the whining moan he makes in response. Mondo laughs, and Ishimaru wants to see his face but he can’t bring his eyes into focus off the ceiling, can’t think of much other than bucking up for more contact with the other boy’s fingers.

It takes a minute for Mondo to set up any kind of a rhythm; the first time he draws his fingers back and pushes back in he misses his goal. The second time he hits it but Ishimaru jerks so hard at the sensation that he loses contact and has to try again. But after a minute of failed attempts he starts catching the sensitive area with every movement, and Ishimaru can feel himself relaxing around the intrusion until he wants  _more_ , until when Mondo slides his hand entirely free it’s hard to not protest.

He takes his hand away from his mouth, tries to catch his breath, and as Mondo stands up to shed his pants Ishimaru lets his hold on his erection go, sits up on the bed and tries to not blush at the tears patterning his cheeks or the sweat beading across his skin. He is  _aching_  for more, so much that when the other boy slides his pants and underwear free at once he feels desperate rather than shy at the first proper sight of the other’s hard cock.

“Okay,” Mondo says, and Ishimaru realizes his hands are shaking and his eyes are wide with nerves. “I think...I’m supposed to use a condom.”

“Yes,” Ishimaru agrees, although it’s a struggle to recall what he has read. “Let me…” He tears the box still next to him open with less dignity than speed and fishes out a long string of wrapped condoms. The box falls to the floor, shortly followed by the rest of the string as Ishimaru gets one separated. He’s tried these before himself, just to gain a little experience, so even though he’s flushing he gets the wrapper open without too much trouble, and when he looks back at Mondo the other boy is blushing but standing close enough that the prefect can just reach out to fit the condom over his erection. The slick latex slips and Ishimaru almost drops it, but Mondo laughs nervously and that makes the prefect laugh too before going back to what he’s doing with slightly more patience.

“I can’t believe we’re about to do this,” Mondo says shakily as Ishimaru works the condom down over his cock, inadvertently comparing how his fingers fit around the other boy’s length as compared to his own.

“Do you want to?” Ishimaru asks, glancing up the other’s body. Mondo is looking down at him with his lip caught between his teeth and what is becoming a permanent blush high on his cheeks, but at the question his mouth curves into a grin.

“Do I  _want_  to.” Ishimaru’s fingers hit the base of his cock and he hisses at the contact. “I’ve  _wanted_  to fuck you since that first time I kissed you.” Ishimaru drops his hands and Mondo reaches out for the lube again. “Well.” He looks away from the prefect’s face and his blush deepens. “Before that, actually. But that was when it became a regular fantasy.”

“Oh.” Ishimaru blushes straight up to his hairline. He’s relieved that Mondo is looking down at himself while he slicks lube over his length, though it looks like the other is flushing as hard as he is. “I...really?”

Mondo glances up at him and flashes that sheepish grin again. “Really.” He sets the bottle aside with more care than the action requires and comes down to rest his knee on the bed alongside Ishimaru’s. The prefect frowns and shifts his leg to the outside of Mondo’s before looking back up at the other’s face.

“It’s not that I don’t  _want_  to,” he goes on, carefully setting his other knee on the mattress, inside Ishimaru’s leg this time so the prefect’s knees are spread wide around Mondo’s hips. “It’s that I’ve been thinking about it for so long that it’s -- hard to believe.” He’s back to not looking at Ishimaru’s face; right now his eyes are locked onto the prefect’s collarbone while he settles one hand just over the other’s shoulder and reaches down between them with his other. “Are you ready?”

It should be a harder question to answer, but there’s not even a flicker of hesitation in Ishimaru’s mind before he says, “Yes.”

Mondo glances at him, starts to smile, and looks down to where his hand is fitting his erection up against Ishimaru’s entrance. Ishimaru has a moment to feel the width of the other boy against him, wider than his fingers but slippery with lube; then Mondo’s shaking hand comes against his hip to hold him steady, and he’s pushing forward and inside Ishimaru. The prefect tries to arch up and relax at the same time, and he makes a strange whimper-moan in the back of his throat that Mondo entirely drowns out with his own hissing groan.

“Oh  _fuck_  Ishi,” he gasps. Ishimaru can feel the hand over his shoulder making a fist in the sheets and the one at his hip gripping convulsively tight, and then Mondo takes a breath and stops and says, “Are you okay? Am I hurting you?”

He almost is; he’s wider than even two fingers were, and Ishimaru’s whole body is trying to tense around the intrusion while he tries to make himself relax, but Mondo’s also shy of that sensitive point still, and what the prefect says is “ _More_ , Mondo.”

Mondo chokes a laugh and thrusts forward deeper. The pressure skims over the nerve endings pleading for more and Ishimaru moans and rocks up and  _that_  is almost too much; when he moves he can feel Mondo inside him and not moving in time with the rest of his body, and he drops back flat onto the bed not sure if he wants to do more or less of that.

“Ishi?” Mondo’s voice is shaking and his breath is hot and fast against the other boy’s shoulder. “I’m...I’m gonna move, okay?”

“Okay,” Ishimaru manages, and Mondo slides away and then too-slowly forward, but this time his angle is higher and he hits  _exactly_  where the other boy wants him so Ishimaru moans  _far_  too loudly before he can catch back the sound.

“Oh fuck,” Mondo says, and Ishimaru says, “ _Touch_  me, Mondo,” and the other boy is as quick to respond to that as anything else. His fingers close around Ishimaru’s cock and the prefect rocks up into the contact, and this time the movement grinds friction against that perfect point and takes all the breath from Ishimaru’s lungs.

Mondo slides his fingers up along Ishimaru’s length, and rocks back and thrusts forward, and the prefect’s hands come up to clutch at the other boy’s shoulder and waist as the last shreds of self-consciousness holding back the sound pooling in his throat shred away. Mondo is panting against his shoulder and thrusting forward into him and his fingers are stroking against Ishimaru’s length, and the prefect is wailing in time with the movement of the other boy and his eyes are overflowing with the excess of  _sensation_  all through his skin, and the world is starting to fracture apart into raw pleasure.

By the time his orgasm hits Ishimaru isn’t entirely sure what it is that pushes him over the edge; his self-awareness is drowning in sensation and his breathing has melded with the sound of Mondo’s until Ishimaru can’t tell where the line between them lies. He’s gasping for air around moans when he comes back into himself with Mondo’s fingers pulling the last of his orgasm from him, and the other boy is trembling over and against him so Ishimaru isn’t surprised when Mondo tenses and whimpers into his shoulder and shudders with his own climax.

Mondo lets his weight come down on his shoulder on the mattress rather than dropping down over Ishimaru; after a moment he takes a breath and slides himself free, though he reaches out to drape his arm over the prefect’s shoulders, careful to keep his sticky fingers away from the other boy’s hair. Ishimaru tips his face towards Mondo and blinks at him; the other boy’s eyes are shut, his eyelashes dark over his skin, but he’s smiling soft even when his eyes shut, and when Ishimaru reaches out to touch his hip, the smile widens, and the prefect echoes the expression.


End file.
